


The Farm

by CherritheWeaverAnt



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Accidental Death, Character Death, Crystals, Depressing, Depression, Drug Use, Drug-Induced Sex, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Horror, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mild Blood, Mild Gore, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other, Past Rape/Non-con, Physical Abuse, Rain, References to Depression, References to Drugs, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Wishful Thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23556073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherritheWeaverAnt/pseuds/CherritheWeaverAnt
Summary: Pharma contemplates his new functioning from his safe spot in the rafters, listening to the acid rain.
Relationships: Pharma/OC
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	The Farm

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The pound](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13418424) by [Steena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steena/pseuds/Steena). 



> Inspired by Steena's "The Pound" and its related fics. Very screwed up, but damn inspiring as a writer. 
> 
> This is basically just me being self-indulgent and asking "Hey, I wonder what happened to Pharma after the DJD got caught?" 
> 
> Another thing: HEED THE TAGS I BLOODY BEG OF YOU. 
> 
> With that out of the way, I hope you find a way to enjoy this thing...

The day always began in the rain.  
Acid rain, of course, because the universe and whatever higher being owned it clearly despised his soul, but yes.  
Rain.  
Sometimes the farm's owner, because he'd never, _ever_ be Pharma's owner, left him alone, and he'd watch the rain from the rafters of the old remains of a storage unit, the odor of smoke and burnt metal choking his intakes, studying the way the acid misshaped the crystals he'd be picking whenever it settled. Sometimes, it went all day, and if the farm's owner felt lazy, because surely he would, one day, he wouldn't have to go out there and do anything either.  
That was what Pharma felt like doing these days.  
_Nothing_.  
Why would he, he thought in the privacy of his processor, when he'd lost _so much_? He might have been a doctor but, he knew enough to reason why and how his processor came to the conclusions it did. He knew that they'd found out about him and his little deal when they'd captured Tarn. He knew he was simply having a depressive episode, bought about by his circumstances. He knew that he'd recover, given time and a better situation.  
Only, and he knew this deep down, it probably _wouldn't_ get better.  
Pharma knew, because he'd been on the other end of the system that'd put him here, not that long ago. Less than a month, actually. That was one thing he figured out _very_ quickly.  
Things never, _ever_ got better once they'd been sold. He'd seen too much evidence of that fact first-hand.  
When they'd found out what he'd done, he remembered, Pharma knew what they'd do. So, it hadn't surprised him when he'd been sent to the auctions. Not at all. He'd expected it from the very start!  
What he hadn't expected was who "bought" him.  
Nobody he knew. Nobody notable. Some random scrap who'd decided to grow crystals and "needed the help" and "company".  
_Company his afterburner_.  
He hadn't been surprised when the mech dragged him into the berth, or when he'd been beaten into gathering _more crystals, faster_.  
His hands had bothered him a lot after that day.  
What _had_ surprised him was the fact the farm's owner had decided to toss him into the old building's remains when he wasn't needed. _Like scrap_.  
He'd tried running away once, early on.  
The farm's owner had caught up, and found him in the span of _minutes_.  
He'd expected to be beaten, but no. That hadn't been what the farm's owner had in mind.  
The day always began with rain, but, the night did too.  
The farm's owner chained him up to an old support close by, for a building long gone, and left him.  
At first, Pharma had scoffed.  
_What kind of punishment is this? Being allowed to laze about in the sun? Was the lack of mobility supposed to_ _ **bother**_ _him? This fragger realized he was already immobile as is,_ _ **right**_ _?_  
And then the rain had come.  
It had become hot, and firey before long, just minutes after sundown. Pharma vaguely remembered screaming as he was _melted_ , as the droplets, one by one, like a little army, had stripped him of his paint entirely, and done enough damage to the struts holding the fins on his shoulders, that the next day, when the farm's owner had come to retrieve him, they fell off the moment they were touched.  
Pharma hadn't been repaired, or repainted since, and between that, and the daily grind of collecting _more, faster_ , a dull, constant throb emerged, largely in his hands.  
What he'd learned afterwards though, _that'd been the real kicker_.  
Pharma was a doctor, not an expert on crystals. He had no idea _why_ the farm's owner chose to harvest and store them away.  
Until the farm's owner was interrupted one night, during his typically-demanded-fragging, by a "customer".  
And chosen to use Pharma as a "test-subject" for his ever-popular hellspawn of an aphrodisiac.  
_'Meant specifically for cons and traitors, like you.'_ He'd ever helpfully provided.  
The next day, he was dragged down to the house's basement, where he was forced to behold the mech he'd replaced.  
_He couldn't even recognize the ravid, drooling, sex-crazed monster Kaon had become. The only reason he ever figured out who he was was because he still had the lightning rods on his back, or, rather, the stumps that made up what was left of them._  
Staring at the clearing rain, a heavy truth settled in Pharma's mostly empty tanks.  
_Things would never get better. Not here. Sooner or later, he'd be replaced, and reduced to the same disgusting state Kaon was in for the rest of his miserable functioning- a lab rat for a drug meant for mechs just like him._  
They'd burned Kaon yesterday, he remembered.  
Not buried, _burned_ , in a pit just feet below the rafters where Pharma had recharged.  
The farm's owner promised that the next time he fragged up, _the next batch would be tested on him_.  
Pharma noticed immediately when the farm owner stepped out of his home, and began the short, yards-long-walk to where he'd left Pharma the night before.  
As he approached, the smell of burning metal only grew stronger. As Pharma began the typical climb back down, one rafter after another, hands shaking in a way they never had in his _old_ life, he supposed that's what his _new_ functioning had become.  
_A hunk of burning metal._  
Not moments later, the rafter Pharma had wrapped a shaking servo around finally broke.  
He noticed it too late to rebalance, and, as he fell, T-cog refusing to save him, _the universe_ refusing to save him, the former surgeon screamed. Pharma hit the metal floor of the burnt-out storehouse, his helm colliding with the floor with a harsh, echoing _crack_.  
The farm's owner found him where he landed, the last of his energon already pooling around his broken, gray frame, his eyes still bright with shock and agony. The farm's owner sighed, and took the corpse by its pedes, dragging it to the burnt-out hole he'd left the last time he'd disposed of a slave, before lighting a match, and burning away the last remnant of Pharma, as the body twitched, and his glitching optics screamed, with only the patter of the last of the acid rain to accompany him.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't decide if I regret this or not.
> 
> But I can't say I didn't enjoy writing it. 
> 
> Really, I just wanted to publish it because 'The Pound' was a massive inspiration to me as a writer. It's screwed up, but it's a story that handles itself flawlessly, and the world building and character arcs are absolutely the stuff of my hopes and dreams. I really want to hit that point too some day. 
> 
> But yeah, if this thing is half as well written as that story, I think I'd die of joy.


End file.
